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Gerry Loose
Gerry Loose is a poet and editor; he was Scottish Arts Council Writer in Residence for Glasgow City Counci at Councilmilk from 1995-1997, is currently Managing Editor for Survivors' Poetry Scotland and is a lifelong gardener. He has worked as a farmer and market gardener; he also trained in Conservation Management and Ecology at the Scottish Agricultural College. His publications include Tongues of Stone; a measure; The Elementary Particles; and The Holistic Handbook for Scotland. Gerry Loose is currently working on collections of his own work and a book provisionally called A City Herbal, which will draw on city folklore and memories/knowledge of herbs from city kitchen gardens to allotments and waste lots.
discussing herons which morning was it that or this you cooked deceivers & honey fungus slippery jack & penny bun larch bolete & boletus impolitus for which we have no name while octobering trees gave their roof-dripping sermons & parliaments & assemblies of crows & gulls were whirring & kraaing whistling & hooting flighting together & shoaling with starlings wheeling & rowing from ground to branch branch to branch food in beak denying arguing discussing refuting engaged in monkish discourse & all so busy in the air a great cacophony rattling & belling the passing of the day only the heron straight through this silent but for wiping sky with her great greycloth wings neck hunched waved in time for which we also have no name but in the evening by Craigallian loch a broken trout on the broad path stiff amid an explosion of scales of shining purpose before the heron can appear on a river the river must hold the possibility of a heron a glimpse of a rose or rose hip flash of goldcrest or echo of her call lip roll of water backing against current the possibility of water or air, unlikely elements before the heron can appear there must be a heron shape dropped into the well of brain after image of light flash the river must not rise too high or the heron will not arrive when the heron comes to the river an island appears at her feet because I opened my eyes from sleep the cormorant flew past the window because I paused at the river bank a kingfisher skimmed upstream because I sheltered in a holly grove the rainbow grew in the east because the kingfisher perched there a holly branch leaned to the river because the river flowed here the cormorant arched under the cormorant surfaced under under the surface under holly roots under riverbed under sleep under under the dusty world |